Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“I’m okay,” I insist. “I’m just going to rest. I’ll text or call if I need anything.”
He frowns but nods. “All right. I’ll see you later.”
“Call first, please. In case I’m sleeping. I wouldn’t want you to come here for no reason.”
He looks like he wants to argue but just nods again. “Okay.”
Once he’s left, it feels like I can breathe again. I spend the morning resting, scrolling social media, and when the afternoon rolls around, I’m so bored that I take a shower so I can get out of the house. I’m not on bed rest or anything.
As I’m considering where to go, I spot my writing journal on the counter. I open it up and find the most beautiful lyrics. I remember writing some of this with Declan, but this song looks damn near complete, so we must’ve worked on it some more during the time I lost my memory.
I’m on a break, but I don’t see why I can’t go to the studio and mess around, maybe put some instrumentals to it. I text my dad, asking if there’s an open studio, and he replies that there’s always one available for me.
Thirty minutes later, I’m walking into Blackwood Records. Everyone knows who I am and what happened, so they all greet me with smiles and tell me they’re glad I’m okay.
I go in search of my dad, but when I can’t find him, I end up in an empty studio that the receptionist said he booked for me. Just being here, with the equipment and sound booth, makes me feel ten times better. I plop onto the comfy couch and am reading through the lyrics again when the door opens and in walks Declan.
He’s dressed in a simple white Vans T-shirt that’s taut across his chest, showcasing the hard body hidden underneath, ripped jeans that mold to his muscular thighs, and clean white Vans don his feet. His dirty blond hair is up in a man bun, and his midnight blue eyes are wide, having not expected me to be here.
“Shouldn’t you be in bed resting?” His deep, masculine voice sends shivers down my spine, and I squirm in my spot, the apex of my legs clenching in… want. What the hell? Since when do I get turned on by Declan?
“I got stir-crazy,” I say, inwardly cringing when my words come out breathier than intended.
“Gotcha. I didn’t know anyone was in here. I’ll just…”
He’s about to back out when I blurt out, “You can stay… if you want. I was reading through this song I wrote. Actually, it’s the song we worked on together. I don’t remember finishing it, but it turned out so beautiful. I’m thinking of asking Johnny to help me put some music to it.”
Walking over, Declan takes the notebook from me and reads the words before handing it back to me. “The song is already done.”
“What?”
“We finished it… together and put the music to it.”
“Really?” Jesus, how much happened during the six weeks that I can’t remember? “Did we record it?”
“Kind of. We recorded it so you could pitch it to your dad, but we’ll have to have it redone properly.” He pulls out his phone and pulls up the file, then hands it to me so I can press play. The instrumentals start, and then I begin singing about finding myself and love. About halfway through the song, Declan’s voice comes on, and I suck in a harsh breath at his words…
I’ve been watching you all night
Memorizing your every move
Know exactly what you need
To cure that chaos in your heart
Hand it over, and I’ll fix the broken
Turn the chaos into calm
Make that heart of yours mine
And you’ll never feel alone
All you gotta do is say yes
And I’ll handle the rest
Haven’t touched a single drink all night
But I’m drunk as fuck
On your scent, on your touch
Hand it over, baby
And you’ll never know what it’s like to be without love
Butterflies erupt in my belly, chills race down my spine, my heart… my freaking heart flutters in my chest as if it was dead inside and has been resuscitated. The song continues, but my focus is on Declan, on his words…
“This is a love song.” I don’t write love songs. I write about heartbreak. I knew it was a love song when I read the words in my notebook, but it didn’t click until I listened to them.
“Yeah,” he says, his voice devoid of all emotion.
“We wrote a love song together…” I glance at my notebook, reading the lyrics as I listen to the emotion bleeding through every word we sing. The song can’t be about Kyle because we started it before I met him… So who is it about?
For some musicians, writing a love song isn’t a big deal, but for me, it’s huge. I think back to when we started writing the song. We were hanging out, and Declan was scribbling words. I read them, looked into his eyes, could feel every raw emotion in every word, and added words of my own. We went back and forth until our friends showed up, and we put the notebook away. At the time, I didn’t realize we were writing a love song—not until I just heard it finished.